


The Messenger

by moosefrog



Series: Raven-borne Messages [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 03:28:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11348922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moosefrog/pseuds/moosefrog
Summary: Bilbo's back in Bag End, recovering from adventure and heart-break, when he receives an unusual messenger carrying an unusual message.





	The Messenger

**Author's Note:**

> This wasn't beta'd. It had started off as a small character study of a raven from Ravenhill and suddenly exploded into something a bit bigger. 'Troc' is an acronym for 'The Rest Of Canada' and in French is apparently means to barter? YMMV! XD

Bilbo has just sat down in his garden for a nice smoke when suddenly a two-foot tall black, feathery squawker flopped down beside him.

“Hey! You Bilbo?“ it gasped the question out then spotted a barrel of rainwater and hopped over to drink himself sluggish.

“Er, yes, I’m Bilbo,“ Bilbo replied after his heart stopped trying to hammer its way out of his chest. A talking raven! Hrm, it must be from Ravenhill which meant someone in Erebor has sent him a message. Perhaps Balin? A raven certainly would be faster than waiting for someone travelling to the Shire carry a letter. “Would you like something to eat? It seems your journey was difficult.”

“Yarsh!“ The raven, sloshed a bit as it waddled back over to Bilbo. It tilted its head and looked expectantly at him. As if Bilbo had a four course dinner hidden in a pocket.

It was a bit intimidating to be eyed up by a hungry raven over half your size!

“How about you wait out here and I’ll fetch you a nice dinner? Er, what do ravens eat? I’m afraid I haven’t got any sheep’s eyeballs so don’t ask for that.“

The raven squawked and floofed its feathers and Bilbo got the distinct impression he was being laughed at.

“Right! You just wait here.” Bilbo stomped his way into his kitchen and put together a plate of cold lamb sausage, cold oatmeal he scraped from the breakfast pot, and choice vegetable scraps he had yet to take out to the compost heap. He really had no idea what a raven would find tasty! As an afterthought, he gently nestled a whole egg, shell and all, into the oatmeal. He thought he’d recalled someone telling him ravens would eat the eggs of other birds if given a chance.

He was terribly surprised when the raven plucked the plate out of his hands when he stepped into the garden and carried it, quite expertly, a little ways away before setting it down and examining the contents by pushing the food around with its beak.

“Er, did you have a message for me?” Bilbo politely asked after the raven had eaten nearly everything on the plate. It had made very distressing noises when it had found the egg but observation proved those had been excited happy noises and not outraged horror.

The raven, now full and happy and preening its feathers, looked at Bilbo in surprise. Like it had forgotten why it had flown across Middle Earth. “Yarsh! Yarsh! I am Troc daughter of Roäc and I bring a message for Bilbo Baggins!” It hopped over to Bilbo and held out a leg. There was an artfully wrought metal tube fastened to her leg by a leather strap.

Wary of her sharp beak and talons, Bilbo carefully removed the message inside of the tube and unrolled it.

“Thorin is angry!” Troc blurted out. “He called Bilbo a faithless fool and Balin son of Fundin a poor friend!”

“Th-Thorin? No, Troc, Thorin is dead. I was with him when he…” Bilbo’s fingers shook as he smoothed out the paper on his knee and began to read.

“Thorin called Dwalin a big soppy mess and they cried on each other.” Troc seemed determined to gossip and did so with obvious enjoyment. “Thorin hid from his sister but she found him and kicked him very hard! Troc laughed!” The raven, Troc, was laughing again at the memory. Her feathers floofed and she threw her head back, beak open, and the laughter that came out was a perfect imitation of Kili.

Bilbo’s head jerked up at the sound. There were tears in his eyes. “Stop that! Don’t… Is this really true?!” Bilbo jabbed the note on his knee with a finger. “This was written by Thorin? He says Elrond, well, I assume it’s Elrond but he calls him a ‘meddling half-elf bleeding-heart’, brought him back from the brink of death!”

“Yarsh! The important weed-eater did magic!” After all, anybody who gets flown in on the back of a giant eagle must be important. “The sad weed-eater did some magic, as well, but he kept saying,” and now Troc’s voice shifted to a mimicry of Thranduil’s speech. “What is the point, Elrond? We have saved the heirs and they are all mortal, anyway. Why this much effort for those who will live only a handful more years.”

“You are a very gossipy messenger, did you know that, Troc?” But Bilbo was impressed. Her impression of Thranduil was close enough that he felt dread hearing that voice again. Mirkwood’s king had been very intimidating. Bilbo suspected that was by design.

“Thorin asked if Troc could carry Bilbo.” Troc slowly looked Bilbo up then down. “Troc cannot carry Bilbo. Bilbo will have to walk.” She rolled over on her back in the grass laughing like it was a huge joke. Bilbo shook his head. The other raven he had met had seemed so stoic and reserved. Perhaps Troc was just young? Goodness knows young hobbits were a handful.

“Ha. Ha.” The note had been very… Thorin. Demanding, aggressive, imperial… but Bilbo had learned how to see past the bluster. Thorin was hurt Bilbo had left. Never mind the fact Bilbo had thought Thorin had died. Apparently he should have stuck around for the official burial which, Thorin said in the note would have been magnificent and Bilbo should be honoured that he would be allowed into the tomb because outsiders were never given that privilege.

The nerve of some dwarves! Being angry because someone hadn’t attended their funeral! Couldn’t Thorin use the rocks he called brains to figure out Bilbo had left because he was heart-broken and couldn’t bear to look upon Thorin’s lifeless body one more time?

Now, Bilbo wasn’t sure he wanted to look upon Thorin’s live body one more time! That arrogant sod! Ah, but as shocked and angry as he was he realized that in the back of his mind he was already making plans for leaving Bag End, perhaps, forever.

“Bilbo has a message for Thorin?” Troc croaked.

“You know what, Troc? I don’t have a message. Thorin asked if you could carry me back to Erebor? Well, you can’t, but you can certainly accompany me!” Ha! Let Thorin spend the next few weeks fretting about whether his message had been well-received or not! He would get no forewarning of Bilbo’s arrival!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A month and a half later, Troc found Thorin and announced, “Bilbo says Thorin is a rude dwarf with rocks in his head!”

Thorin dropped his quill in shock and felt cold dread fill his chest. His advances had been rejected? Before he could get too worked up, Troc added,

“Bilbo says Thorin had better have a hot bath ready for him because he is cold, wet, and uncomfortable and it is all Thorin’s fault!”

Thorin was just starting to understand what that meant when a page burst into his office. “Your majesty! A visitor has arrived to see you!”

Thorin left the room so quickly he failed to hear Troc add, “Bilbo says, ‘weed-eater’ is rude and we must say, elf.”


End file.
